Yours
by flootzavut
Summary: "It was actually kind of reassuring that she cared enough to be jealous. Which wasn't too noble, but hey - he got a soul, he didn't suddenly stop being a man." A slight AU of the basement scene in "Dirty Girls", where Faith leaves a little sooner and Dawn appears a little later, and Spike and Buffy have time for a little unexpected honesty and understanding.


**_Yours_**

* * *

"Good to see you two getting along so well."

Spike blinked up from where he was lounging on his cot finishing his fag. Buffy's tone of voice said it was the opposite of good, and that she was currently deciding exactly how pissed off she was at him for spending time with Faith.

He shrugged. "She came to get away from teenaged girl hell and let me bum a cigarette off her."

He was pretty sure Buffy didn't realise she was pouting, nor how adorable it was. It was the kind of pout that was almost impossible to resist; he would do anything for her when she made that face, and he didn't even feel bad about what a pathetic excuse for a vampire that made him. It was... unbelievably cute. (It was probably just as well she didn't realise exactly how irresistible it was.)

She made an absurdly comic kind of 'humph' noise. He had just enough self-preservation instinct not to let himself grin too widely at her expense.

It was actually kind of reassuring that she cared enough to be jealous. Which wasn't too noble, but hey - he got a soul, he didn't suddenly stop being a man.

She was frowning at the floor like it had personally offended her, and while Spike was definitely enjoying the whole jealousy bit, he couldn't quite bring himself to draw it out. _Bloody ponce_ , he admonished himself, but it was too late. His inner William was far too much of a gent to watch her hurt when it was in his power to ease it.

He pushed himself up from the cot and stepped towards her, reached out a hand tentatively, then pulled back. He wasn't sure how she'd react to him touching her cheek, and if she flinched away... well, he'd really rather not risk it, that was all. At least until they were on surer ground.

She peered up through her eyelashes.

There was anger there, but there was fear, too. Fear of betrayal, of being hurt. His Slayer, she deserved so much better than she'd ever got from any of the men in her life.

It was too little, too late, but he was trying to redress the balance as best he could. After all this time, she still had no idea what she did to him, how amazing she was. What she meant to him; to them all.

"You still don't get it, do you?" he asked softly.

"Get _what_?"

He guessed she was a couple of seconds away from stamping her foot like a sulky child. At one and the same time it frustrated him beyond reason that she could be so dense, and was... _ridiculously_ endearing, and made him want to reach out and pull her close and laugh riotously into her hair. Except he was pretty sure if he tried that right now she'd brain him, and while a spot of violence with her was all kinds of fun, he really needed her to understand him for once.

She was glaring like he'd actually laughed, not just felt like it. "What?"

He studied her face, smiled despite how she was glaring daggers at him. "Daft bint," he muttered, ignoring the way the daggers intensified. "I'm yours, Slayer. Have been for years. You know that. Been yours since long before I even knew it."

Her mouth dropped open into an expression of uncertainty and disbelief before she looked away from him, self-conscious. "I- I don't..."

He reached out and gently touched her hair, long again now, long and shining like sunshine. She didn't flinch, didn't withdraw, and he let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Tentatively, he touched his finger to her chin, tipped her head up till she had to meet his eyes.

She frowned at him, and he wanted to laugh again at how confused she looked. God, it was the simplest thing in the world, but she was having so much trouble accepting it. He'd drop to his knee and swear fealty if he thought it'd help, but he had a suspicion she'd just think he'd lost it again. Best put it in the clearest, simplest way he knew how.

"I'm _yours_. Whether you'll have me or no." A shrug. "Doesn't make the blindest bit of difference, doesn't matter what I do or what you do." A quiet laugh. "Told you, I love you. Hasn't changed. Isn't going to change." He grinned and cocked an eyebrow at her. "I should know, I tried enough sodding times."

"Flattering."

He was pretty sure it was supposed to sound dry and sarcastic, but mostly she just sounded poleaxed, uncertain of herself. It wasn't like her.

Time and circumstance had shaped her into a leader, into a woman who knew what she wanted and what was right and how to get done what needed to get done. Somehow he'd made her unsure, made her stick her bottom lip out like a little kid, and he didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or what. He wanted so badly to kiss her, but even if she would let him... he understood now, how he hadn't before. Wouldn't be right.

"'S okay, love. Not asking for anything, nor expecting anything. Just..." He laughed again, not embarrassed exactly, but uncharacteristically shy, the way only Buffy could really make him act. "'M not going anywhere. Unless you tell me to, o'course," he added. "If you tell me to bugger off, then I will." A pause. "Well... probably. For a while. Not so good at staying away from you, pet, we both know that."

A tiny smile flickered across her face, quickly tamped down, as if she liked the thought but didn't think she should.

He smoothed his fingers over her hair again, this time letting them settle on her shoulder. She glanced down, startled, but leaned infinitesimally into the touch, and Spike smiled. With his other hand, he cupped her cheek, ran his thumb lightly over her cheekbone. When her eyes met his again, they were wide and watery. "I love you, Buffy."

She blinked rapidly, as if she were trying to fight back tears, though he was reluctant to make such an assumption. Buffy crying over him seemed wildly unlikely. Especially when he'd told her this so many times before.

(Maybe the difference now was that she finally believed him.)

"Spike-" Her voice failed her, and her lips trembled.

Suddenly he couldn't help noticing how very young she looked. Much younger than her years. Strange how her calling had forced her to grow up too quickly in so many ways, and yet in others had left her behind, left so much of the girl in her. It made him aware of the whole weight of his century and change, every year, every day. He felt ancient.

Without really knowing what he was doing or why, he tugged her close, tucked her in against his body, wrapped his arms firmly around her back.

It took a second, then she melted into him, into the support he'd offered. When she started to shake a little, it suddenly made sense of what he'd done and why she'd accepted. Poor girl spent so much energy being strong, standing firm, never showing fear. No one'd let her be weak in months, he'd wager. Maybe years. Never even realised she'd needed it.

Not that Spike could claim he'd realised as such - he'd just given her a space where she could allow herself to be scared. He felt honoured she'd used it.

He rubbed a hand firmly up and down her spine, rumbled comforting nonsense into her hair. God, her hair. He kissed the top of her head, and when she burrowed closer into his chest, he got brave and buried his face in all that brightness, breathed in her scent until he was dizzy with it.

He got completely lost in the simple pleasure of holding her close and surrounding himself with her, bathing in her presence, her warmth against his skin. When she spoke again it took him by surprise.

"Are you sniffing my hair?"

He paused. She sounded bemused rather than creeped out. "Uh. Yup."

"Weird vampire."

There was a definite smile in her voice now. He allowed himself a chuckle. "If you had a clue how amazing you smell, love..."

She tilted a sceptical look up at him, though she was still smiling, as if she was at least a little amused. "What, like food?"

He shook his head violently. "God, no. Like... like bloody _magic_. Power and strength and..." How could he even start to explain? "Like walking into the sun and not caring if I burn."

Her eyelashes fluttered, and her eyes were suddenly glistening again.

"Hey, hey, it's just... 's just a figure of speech."

She shook her head, that little unconscious pout returning to make her bottom lip so very tempting. "I care if you burn," she said, so quietly he almost doubted he'd heard her right.

He swallowed hard and pulled her in closer, tucked her back under his chin, and if his heart could beat it would be pounding.

"Not leavin' you," he murmured. "Not goin' anywhere."

She started to shake again, and now Spike felt like his heart was going to burst open at the realisation she really was crying over him, over the possibility of losing him. It brought tears to his own eyes, and he let them fall, let them drop into her hair, rain on sunshine.

"My sweet girl," he whispered. He hadn't really meant to say it aloud, half expected her to draw back, but to his pleasure he felt her smile.

She nuzzled his throat, let out a sigh that was half laughter. "My stupid vampire.".

He chuckled. "All yours, pet. All yours."

 _~ fin ~_


End file.
